A Poem for Erev Hanukkah
I wrote this last year and it's fun to think that I just happened to be in La Cienega Park today, how things repeat, continue, and change at the same time. Hag Urim Sameach!
LA CIENEGA PARK
The 24th of Kislev was about to end, dusk was falling
I recognized your face
from more than four cubits away, six feet
You wore blue and I wore green
We sat down on a white bench
near the playground of your youth
One by one the children left
stars came out and darkness settled in
You said the words I needed you to say
Your arms around me
beneath your light down coat, your heart
that will love someone else
As we parted ways to kindle light and sing
the blessing for having reached this point in time
you called out to me—This piece of garment
on the ground, does it belong to you? It didn’t
Hefker, you said and smiled, maybe you did
Maybe I smiled
Hefker, like us, I thought
We are lost, we are set free, we can be claimed by anyone
This poem is part of my new chapbook, Book of Failed Salvation, which is already out of the printer and available very soon!